


Precious

by Magz (sparklepocalypse)



Series: The Five-Alarm 'Verse [4]
Category: Black Hawk Down (2001)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-08
Updated: 2015-08-08
Packaged: 2018-04-13 15:52:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4528113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparklepocalypse/pseuds/Magz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone's in the kitchen with Dale... Sequel to "Telegram."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Precious

**Author's Note:**

> This is for [](http://lionflame.livejournal.com/profile)[lionflame](http://lionflame.livejournal.com/), who started poking me for more after a week had gone by from the last installment. Many thanks to my super beta, Mr. Spell Checker.

When Kurt awoke, he was alone in the bed. The sheets were bunched around his hips and his upper body was bare, his skin slightly cool to the touch. He shivered and sat up, rubbing his arms, and looked about the room.

Dale's bedroom was medium-sized and painted white. The furniture all matched, and the carpet was an unassuming tan that blended in with the base of the dresser. There was a pile of dirty clothes next to the closet, and a pair of spit-shined army boots sat on a chair by the window. Kurt wondered if Dale had worn the boots at all since going on leave. He thought maybe he'd just kept up the habit of cleaning them.

Kurt swung his legs over the edge of the bed, and winced a little at the stretch and pull of popping tendons and tender muscles. He rocked forward, resting his weight on his thighs. He'd let Dale fuck him hard and, figuring by the twinges of discomfort in his legs and ass, round two wouldn't be happening in the immediate future.

He stood, and paused for a minute to curl his toes in the carpet and let his body adjust to the new position, then shuffled towards the slightly ajar bedroom door. He'd left his ruck in the bathroom. The thought of bending over to pick up his jeans made his back tighten uncomfortably. Hell with pants, he decided. He just hoped that Dale didn't have his friends over, or they'd get an eyeful.

Ten minutes later, the residual stiffness of his body all but obliterated under a pounding, steady torrent of hot water, and Kurt was about to propose marriage to Dale's showerhead. He rolled his neck and sighed, and finally turned around to rinse the remaining soap off his chest and belly.

He shut off the taps after a moment, and then shook his head vigorously to remove some of the water from his hair. With one hand, he pulled back the shower curtain, while he wiped his face with the other. He looked up and jumped back slightly, nearly slipping in the tub. "Jesus, D!" he exclaimed.

Dale was standing just inside the bathroom door, wearing the same apron as before, a folded towel in his hands. He was staring at Kurt, who, naked and wet and flaccid, felt a little self-conscious under Dale's appraising gaze. "Hi," Dale said after a bit, and he was still staring at Kurt's nipples, and licking his lips. "I remembered after I heard the water go on that there weren't any towels in here."

Kurt quirked a smile. "Thanks," he said. He stepped over the edge of the bathtub and onto the soft mat just next to it and extended his hand.

Dale handed Kurt the towel. His brow creased a little when Kurt wrapped the terrycloth around his waist. If it were up to Dale, Kurt would be naked and wet all the time. The look was a good one on him. "I'll be in the kitchen," he said.

When Dale turned to leave, Kurt fumbled his grip on the towel. Under the apron, Dale had nothing on.

 

Of all the scenarios in which Kurt had expected to find Dale, air-guitaring with a wooden spoon in nothing but a Kiss the Cook apron was not one. Yet here he was, Aerosmith playing at a healthy volume, following along with the guitar riffs like the best of them.

Kurt tucked a thumb into the waistband of his cotton pajama pants and leaned against the counter, an eyebrow quirked. "Is this part of the normal chili experience?" he asked after a few moments to let the image forever ingrain itself upon his memory. Dale stopped dancing and turned around to face him. "Because if it is, I can see why you rate it right up there with bungee jumping." He padded over to Dale on bare feet and peered into the crock pot. "Smells great." He wasn't sure whether he meant the chili, or Dale.

Dale opened a drawer and pulled out a spoon. "Want a taste?" He scooped a bit into the bowl of the spoon and offered it to Kurt.

Kurt wrapped his fingers around Dale's hand on the spoon, and drew it into his mouth. His eyes widened and, after a moment, he wheezed, "Holy _shit_ , that cleared out my sinuses."

Dale beamed. "Sizemore family tradition is to make it once a month during cold season," he said. He pulled his hand gently away and tossed the spoon in the sink, then placed the lid back on the crock pot. He hesitated for a moment with his back turned, and then pivoted. "Were you staring at my ass?"

Unabashedly, Kurt grinned. "Yes. But I wasn't done -- turn back around." He attempted to turn Dale, and they grappled for a moment, laughing. A dark spot on Dale's shoulder caught his attention, and he rubbed a fingertip across the tattooed skin of his deltoid. "Ranger, Ranger," he murmured. "That's surprisingly hot."

"I was nineteen when I came home with that," Dale said, and leaned slightly in to Kurt's touch. "My parents nearly disowned me. They were protesters during Vietnam. For them, it was bad enough that I'd joined the army at all -- when they had proof that I was _enjoying_ it, it was tough on them."

"Most soldiers whose parents are ex-hippies will tell you the same thing," Kurt replied. He hopped up on the counter and swung his legs gently.

Dale looked at his hands. "I hate disappointing them, though. You know?"

Kurt thought of his own parents: his father, stationed all over the world until Kurt's seventeenth year, and his mother, willing to pack up everything and move to another country at the drop of a hat. He thought of the high hopes that his father had set for him, and how he'd dashed them again and again, before enlisting after high school. He closed his eyes. The army was the last place his parents had wanted him to be. They'd wanted better for him. "Yeah," he said. "I know."

"You know how I told you my parents haven't visited me since I moved in? There's a reason for that." Dale picked up the wooden spoon and fiddled with it. "My father's an ex-hippie, but I guess his tolerance only stretches so far, because he hasn't spoken to me since I came out to them four months ago."

"I never came out," Kurt said. "Actually, I never had to. They figured it out for themselves, and told me that it was fine, and that they didn't expect grandchildren." He paused. "They _did_ draw the line at my becoming a florist, for some reason. Too stereotypical, I guess." He quirked a smile.

Dale chuckled quietly. "You don't seem like the florist type."

"Well, not now, anyway," Kurt replied. "But in high school I was a little bit... out there. I wore tight clothes and eyeliner, had a sibilant S when I talked -- I practiced that, by the way -- and wrote horrible poetry. I swear, sometimes I think the only reason I didn't get my ass kicked was because of Dad's work."

Looking him over and laughing, Dale replied, "It's a little hard to imagine you as flamboyant as you make yourself out to have been."

"Now, anyway," Kurt said, and flexed with a growl, grinning hugely. "The best part of having my parents figure out that I was gay without my having to tell them was the sex talk. My father's very straight-laced and serious most of the time, and I think he was more embarrassed than I was." He hopped back off the counter and popped his shoulders. "There was a lot of hemming and hawing, and finally he wound up telling me, 'Son, you need to put blinders on your horses, or you'll end up run over by the carriage'."

There was a moment of complete silence as Dale eyed him to gauge whether or not he was telling the truth. Finally, Dale said, "Your father sounds like Steele."

"Captain Steele gave you the talk?" Kurt blinked.

"Well, no," Dale admitted. "He said something more like, 'Son, this army is a straight man's army, but a lot of the straight men are gay. Hooah?'"

Kurt shook his head. "Yeah, that sounds about right. How did he find out, though?"

Dale coughed and looked away. "It was a couple days after that first time outside the hangar," he said, and Kurt had to take a deep breath to stay focused on what Dale was telling him, instead of closing his eyes and remembering. "I wrote a letter to my parents, then tried to eat it when I realized I'd come out to them in it, but started choking on it instead. He picked it up after I coughed it out." He paused, picked at a fingernail. "And we both know why I wasn't reported for inadvertently telling."

"Yeah," Kurt breathed, and wondered briefly if Sanderson and Steele sold tickets for voyeurs. "Someone told me Sanderson threatened to quit because they were going to ship them off to separate bases. You know how it is -- something's supposed to be confidential, so the entire squadron knows by the end of the day."

"No, shit," said Dale. He shook his head. "I wouldn't want to be the paper-pusher that got between those two."

"Yeah, me neither," said Kurt. He moved to Dale's side. "You know us Deltas. Once we've got something, we fight for it hard as we can, even if it kills us."

Dale swallowed, and looked down at Kurt's fingers where they were resting lightly on his forearm. "Is that part of your training?" he asked.

Kurt shook his head. "Just common sense. Not our fault you Ranger types can't figure it out." He grinned and ducked away before Dale could grab him in retaliation.

"Don't make me whip you!" Dale laughed, brandishing his wooden spoon.

"I'd like to see you try," Kurt challenged.

"Yeah?" Dale asked. He dropped the spoon onto the counter and advanced on Kurt.

Kurt stood his ground when Dale stepped up to, and then pressed against him. "Yeah. What are you gonna do -- " His eyes widened and then shut as Dale kissed him.

Dale draped his arms loosely around Kurt's waist and pulled him in snug, his tongue brushing over Kurt's lips. Then he pulled back and quirked a smile. "Thought I might do this," he said. Then the flat of his hand came down on Kurt's ass with a hearty smack.

"Ouch!" Kurt jerked in Dale's arms. "I'm still sore, you fuck!"

Dale paled. "Oh, God, did I hurt you?" He released Kurt and chewed on his lower lip.

"Absolutely not," Kurt said. Then he grabbed Dale's hips, spun him around to face the counter, and held him at arm's length. "You really do have a gorgeous ass," he said. His knuckles brushed over one firm cheek. "Would you like to try something new?" He leaned into Dale's body, pushing against him from behind, and caught an earlobe between his teeth. He flicked it with his tongue, and then released it. "You'll like it."

"New?" Dale asked, and cleared his throat. "Like, you fuck me?"

"Something like that," Kurt replied. "But I'd really rather we work our way up to me fucking you. That's something I want to take my time with." His lips dragged along Dale's throat. "I'm talking about something that we haven't done at all."

Dale tilted his head, to allow Kurt access to his neck. "I'll like it?" he asked.

"And if you don't, I'll stop."

Humming, Dale caught the back of Kurt's head, then craned his neck and found his lips in a slow kiss. "Yes," he said.

Kurt kissed Dale once more, and then ran his fingertips up Dale's arms. "Hold onto the counter," he said, "and lean over a little bit." He dropped a wet kiss onto Dale's shoulder, nipped the tense muscles there, lightly. "Relax."

Dale dropped his head so his chin rested against his chest, and took a few deep breaths. "Am relaxed," he muttered.

"Yeah, now you are," Kurt replied. He kissed across Dale's upper back, and then ran a flickering tongue slowly down his spine. The apron strings were tied loosely, and rested on the upper curve of Dale's ass. When his tongue met the stiff cotton, he followed it with his lips to the tie, and, eyes closed, mouth pressed against the very top of the dark crevice between Dale's cheeks, he tugged on the strings with his teeth, loosening and then untying them.

The strings slid down and dangled at Dale's sides. Dale shifted his grip on the counter. He closed his eyes, still breathing deeply, and moaned softly when Kurt's lips fell on the back of his knee, sucking lightly. "Feels good," he breathed.

"It gets better," Kurt replied, and nipped his way up the inside of Dale's thigh. The long, firm muscles twitched beneath his lips. He pushed his hand up Dale's side and caressed his hip. Felt Dale shudder slightly. "Nervous?" he asked.

"A little," Dale replied.

Kurt pushed himself up onto his knees. "Don't be." He sank his teeth softly into Dale's left ass cheek. "I promise that it won't hurt." He sucked down on the place he'd just bitten, and laved it with his tongue, then leaned back slightly to admire the mark he'd left. He smoothed it with his thumb. "If you don't like it, let me know," he said, but he was almost absolutely sure that Dale wouldn't be able to speak once he got into it.

"Just do it," Dale said, and he gripped the counter a little firmer.

Kurt dragged a fingertip down the crevice between Dale's cheeks, and followed it with a fluttering tongue. He slid his thumbs down the way of his fingertip and carefully spread Dale apart, expelling a slow breath as soft, pink flesh was revealed.

Dale squirmed when Kurt's hot breath washed over his ass and shoved his back into Kurt's hands. "I've seen what you're going to do in videos, Kurt," he said, and craned his neck, arching his back to look at him. "You don't have to treat me like I'm precious." Then Kurt pressed his face against him, and Dale closed his eyes as Kurt's tongue lapped softly at his ass. He let out a soft moan.

But Dale _was_ precious, Kurt decided when he felt him react to that first swipe of tongue. Nobody else Kurt had ever been with, was this responsive to just the slightest touch. He swirled his tongue over the sparsely-haired skin, gathering up the taste of Dale -- slightly tangy, and a bit salty. The smell of sweat lingered just below the clean scent of Ivory soap. He nuzzled into the smell, took a deep breath. Moaned it back out again, and started licking and sucking in earnest.

Holy shit, Dale's entire body felt like it was vibrating. He looked down through glassy eyes and saw that the muscles in his legs were trembling noticeably. His legs spread wider of their own accord, and he dropped his head down, feeling more than seeing one of Kurt's hands slid between his thighs and under the apron that he still wore.

With a frustrated grunt, he released the counter and tore the apron over his head. Then Kurt's tongue pressed insistently against his ass, and he felt with a gasp as he opened up for Kurt's mouth. He was breathing hard, and he had to squeeze his eyes shut rather than watch as Kurt slowly jacked him off, to keep from coming.

Kurt pointed his tongue and slowly pressed it inside Dale, lapping just beyond the tight ring of muscles that clenched against his mouth. He eased back, lapping with a broad tongue down Dale's perineum, and placed a fingertip at the twitching opening, teasing it with light, circular motions before drawing back and sucking it into his mouth, then pressing against Dale's ass again. This time he pushed carefully inside, and held it there while he hunched his shoulders and pressed his face between Dale's legs, nudging his heavy sac with his chin.

Then the song on the radio changed noticeably, and Kurt snickered and lost his concentration.

 

_I like big butts and I can not lie  
You other brothers can't deny..._

  
"Nngah?" Dale asked, as Kurt fell backwards onto the floor, cracking up. He turned around to face him, looking at him questioningly. Then he, too, noticed the song, and he giggled, breaking out of the pre-orgasmic haze he'd been floating in. Soon he was on the floor with Kurt, clutching his sides and wheezing with laughter. "This radio station has the _worst_ timing," he laughed.

Kurt grinned at him. "You giggle," he said, matter-of-factly.

"Do not!" Dale exclaimed. "I have a very manly chuckle."

"I like it," Kurt said. He lay flat on the floor, and reached for Dale, then gestured in the direction of the stereo. "Thank you, Sir Mix-A-Lot. I was getting a crick in my neck." He pulled Dale on top of him, and leaned up for a quick kiss. "What say we make out like teenagers?"

"Hmm," Dale replied. "No good. We'd have to move to the couch, and," he wiggled around on top of Kurt, closing his eyes and inhaling sharply when their cocks nudged each other with only the thin fabric of Kurt's pants separating them, "I'm comfortable here." He shoved his hips forward again with a soft groan.

"Now that you mention it, floor's good too," Kurt rasped, and pushed up into Dale's thrust. He slid his hands down Dale's back and over his ass cheeks, squeezing and lifting them possessively. One finger moved down between, slipping over his saliva and Dale's sweat. "Fucking hot," he groaned, and coiled the muscles of his abdomen tight, snapping his hips up against Dale's.

"Mm, keep doing -- " Dale gasped. " -- that..." He ground down against Kurt with another long moan. "Gonna make me come," he murmured.

"Want you to," Kurt said. He dug his fingers into Dale's lower back. "Come all over me, Dale." He wriggled beneath him, his legs spreading and his knees bending as he pressed his feet flat against the floor and shoved his hips up, wanting his pants to disappear so that his cock could rub, raw and bare, against Dale's. One of his hands fumbled at his waistband, trying to shove it down over his hips while they kept grinding together. He gave up after a minute and clutched at Dale, his eyes closing.

"Look at me," Dale said, and pressed his forehead to Kurt's, sweat causing them to slide together. When Kurt opened his eyes, Dale swallowed hard, then tilted his chin and pressed his lips to Kurt's open, panting mouth. Their tongues swirled together, and they lapped at each other's mouths after their lips had parted so they could gasp for air. Dale cupped Kurt's head with his hands, and tilted it back so he could lick at his throat.

Their thrusting became quick and erratic, and they groaned and gripped each other's flesh as they came, bodies juddering against each other. Their mouths pressed together, then pulled apart, and Dale rested his head in the crook of Kurt's neck, mewling softly.

A few minutes later, as he was running his fingers through Dale's damp hair and petting his back, Kurt murmured, "I'm destined to be constantly squashed during the afterglow in this relationship, aren't I?" He halfheartedly wiggled underneath Dale.

"You're comfy," Dale replied, and nuzzled into his neck. He shifted a bit. "We made a mess of your pants."

"Should get those off before they stick too badly," Kurt said. He pushed a bit at Dale's shoulder, but was hampered by his other arm tightening around Dale's back.

Dale slowly pushed up onto his knees. "How about a shower?" he asked, and got to his feet. He offered Kurt a hand, and when Kurt took it, pulled him up. He rubbed his thumb over Kurt's knuckles, rather than release his hand.

Kurt unceremoniously dropped his pants. "I'll wash your hard-to-reach areas if you wash mine," he offered.

"Mmm." Dale tugged him in for a kiss, and rubbed slowly against him. The telephone rang and he groaned. "I'll be right in," he said, and pulled away. "Don't use all the hot water."

Kurt padded toward the bathroom, pausing to look over his shoulder at Dale, who was retreating toward the phone. He tilted his head, admiring the long planes of muscle in Dale's body, before shaking his head and heading into the bathroom. It would do no good to get a hard-on that he'd have to walk with.

Once in the bathroom, he stepped over to the tub, his toes curling on the still-damp bathmat. He turned the knobs, and watched as water sprayed from the showerhead. Testing the temperature, he stepped in and sighed.

The shower curtain drew to the side a moment later, and Dale climbed into the tub next to Kurt, draping his arms around his hips. "That was my mom," he said, and nuzzled Kurt's ear. "We meet halfway between home and here every other week for lunch. I tried to cancel with her, but she said to bring you along."

Kurt blinked, and turned in Dale's arms to face him. "Why?"

Dale smiled. "She wants to meet you." He rubbed small circles along Kurt's lower back.

Kurt returned the smile. Inwardly, he was panicking a little. "I've never actually done a meet-the-parents thing," he said.

"My mom's great," Dale assured him. "She completely understood when I came out. She keeps expecting me to call her and announce that I've found my soul mate, though. It's so funny. I've had to explain to her that it's just as hard to find your soul mate when you're gay as it is when you're straight." He huffed out a laugh.

Kurt snorted. "At least she took it well, right?"

"You could say that," Dale replied. "When I told her that I couldn't make it to dinner this week because I had someone here, she got excited. You should've heard her on the phone -- it was like she was waiting for me to tell her that we've bought a house and adopted some kids. So, she wants to meet you." He paused. "You should probably be a little worried if she's dressed like she's going to a wedding, and there's a priest somewhere in the restaurant."

"She sounds a little intense," Kurt said.

"She's a sucker for a good romance," Dale said, "so don't be surprised if she embellishes everything that you tell her into sonnets or something."

"What..." Kurt swallowed and tilted his head back for a minute, letting the shower spray soothe the tension in his head. "What did you say to her about me?"

"Just that you're the thirty-two year old cradle-robber who stole her darling baby's virginity," Dale replied.

Kurt gaped.

Dale burst out laughing. "I'm kidding. I told her that we served together in Somalia, and that things escalated after you patched up my arm." His arms tightened around Kurt.

"What about the virginity thing?" Kurt asked casually, rubbing the back of his neck.

Dale reached over and picked up a bottle of shampoo, then squeezed a dollop of it into his hand. He unceremoniously dumped the shampoo from his hand onto Kurt's head, set the bottle aside, and started lathering it up. "I remember telling you this in the hangar," he said. "I fucked a few girls in high school, and I mean, I got off, but it didn't feel as spectacular as the guys on the football team told me it was. You were my first guy."

Smiling smugly, Kurt closed his eyes and sighed as Dale's fingers massaged his scalp. "I'll pay you not to stop doing that," he purred.

Dale laughed softly. "Yeah," he said, "my mom will love you."


End file.
